Take Me Instead
by theselection98
Summary: What happens if Clarkson takes America into his office instead of Maxon after the report when America reveals Illea's diary? Please read and review and let me know if there are other oneshots you want to see!
1. Chapter 1

**Hi all! This scene is taken from right after the report where America plans to remove the castes, and before she discovers Maxon's secret in the saferoom. What will happen if King Clarkson "talks" to America instead of Maxon? WARNING this may be upsetting to some.**

**All rights to Kiera Cass**

**America's POV**

King Clarkson said, "Maxon, I need to see you in my office."

I watched Maxon; and maybe I only imagined it, but it looked like panic flickered briefly behind his eyes.

"Or," the king offered, "I could simply talk to her." He gestured over to me.

"No," Maxon said quickly, holding up a hand in protest. "That won't be necessary. Ladies," he added, turning to us, "why don't you all head upstairs? We'll have dinner sent to you tonight." He paused. "America, maybe you should go ahead and collect your things. Just in case."

The king smiled, an eerie action after his recent explosion. "Actually," he countered, "I think I need to see both of you."

"No, father, that absolutely won't be neces—"

"Maxon, my mind has been made up! Don't contradict me!" And with that, he sharply grabbed my wrist and practically dragged me out of the room.

"Father, please! She hasn't done—"

"She has done more than enough! I'm sick of her!"

My head was spinning and I was so confused by what was going on. Yes, of course I was scared about how angry the king was, but what could he possibly be about to do that would cause that look of terror in Maxon's eyes? As we reached the door to the king's office, he let go of my arm to unlock the door and Maxon rushed over to me. I turned to meet his eyes with a questioning glance.

"America," He cupped my face in his hands and pulled me close, "I need you to know that whatever is about to happen is not your fault, and—"

"Silence!" the king bellowed, grabbing Maxon by his shirt collar. He harshly pulled him in the door, and flung him down in a chair in the corner, so I followed weakly, aching for Maxon's comforting words. I started to sit in the seat next to Maxon, but the king practically picked my up and threw me down in the middle of the carpeted floor. I was too scared to get back up, and I began to cry silently; this definitely was going to be a lot worse than whatever I expected.

Maxon jumped up to make sure I was ok, but the king harshly grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back in his chair. The king walked over and knelt down in front of his desk and began fiddling with something in its drawers as I trembled. He began to talk while looking in the drawer.

"Since I've done it enough times before to you," the king shot a menacing stare at Maxon, "I thought maybe it was time for you to watch instead."

_Done _what _enough times before?_

"Father, no!"

But before either of us knew what was going on, Clarkson rushed over to Maxon, with rope and a whip in his hands, and began tying Maxon's hands behind his back, behind the chair. Maxon tried to stand up, but the chair was bolted to the floor. I was so confused and dizzy, I was praying this was a nightmare, but when the king lifted me so I was standing, I knew I couldn't be dreaming.

"Strip," he ordered me, whip in hand.

**Maxon's POV**

My father was going to beat America and there was nothing I could do about it. When he was tying my hands behind the chair, I fought as hard as I could, but before I realized what was going on, it was too late. I was stuck, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't free my hands from the rope.

"Strip," my father ordered America.

No. No, no, no. "America, run!" I shouted. "Please! Get away from here!"

America stood, bewildered, knowing what my father could do to me if she left. She pleaded, "Maxon, I can't leave you here like thi—"

"Damn right you can't!" Clarkson yelled. "I thought I told you to take your dress off! You don't want Maxon getting hurt here do you?"

"America, no! Don't worry about me, you need to get out of here!"

"Maxon, I—"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" my father bellowed. He took two strides across the room, pushed America to the ground, climbed on top of her and began to rip her dress off of her. I felt lightheaded. This couldn't be happening. I was absolutely helpless; I strained again at the ropes tied around my hands, but it only seemed to make the knot tighter. Shit.

Clarkson had her dress down around her waist, so from her waist up she was only wearing a bra. I could see her trembling from across the room, her face bright red with humiliation and she was avoiding eye contact with everyone. The urge to run to her and comfort her was overwhelming. The only thing I could do was to keep talking to her. I _had_ to make sure she knew I was here for her.

America was kneeling, leaning over a chair my father had placed in front of her. Her brilliant red hair was swept over the pale, smooth skin of her neck, and I was reminded of my complete and utter adoration for her. I needed to tell her that everything was going to be ok.

"Ames, listen to me," I pleaded. "Please, just keep listening to my voice, I'm here."

The whip was brought down on her back; a scream tore through the air. The muscles on my back involuntarily flexed, I couldn't believe she was experiencing the same pain I had been feeling for years.

"I'm here, listen to me, I'm here America," my voice was quavering. I had to stay strong for her. The whip crossed over the first cut, creating a new one. My voice grew louder. "Ames, I'm so sorry. I'm right here, you're going to be ok, I'll always be here."

"Shut up, Maxon!" my father reprimanded. "If she's bold enough to let out one of Illea's greatest secrets on live television, she can handle this!"

America's back was to me, her shoulders shaking with the sobs that were racking her body. I would do anything to see her face, to look her in the eyes and tell her how much I loved her; to take her away from this chaos.

"Don't listen to him America!" I yelled. The whip cracked. "Are you listening to me? Focus on my voice. Do you hear me?"

She sobbed, "Ma—axon, help, make it sto—" Another crack. She screamed in agony.

I had to get my father away from America, at least for a second. "You worthless piece of shit!" I directed at him. It worked. He whirled around, bringing the whip down over my legs, leaving a line of America's blood on my dress pants. It stung, but it was nothing compared to what I have felt before.

"No!" America bawled.

Clarkson bellowed, "She's worthless scum!" He cracked his whip on her back. "You don't really love this bitch do, you?" Crack. "No one could love someone as disgusting as this rat!"

"Don't listen to him America! Keep listening to me," I continued talking to her, unaware of the words coming out of my mouth. I just knew I had to say something, anything, so she could focus on my words more than the physical and verbal abuse from my father.

He continued punctuating his sentences by bringing down his hard whip. "You are a disgrace to this country!" Crack. "Maxon was an idiot to keep you here!" Crack. "Anyone would be stupid to let you into their lives!" Crack.

I continued to throw heartless insults at my father to try and distract him, but it was no use. At some point during this, I had begun to cry through my talking to America. It was too much for me to hear her crying in agony, to hear the untrue things my father was yelling, to watch her as she experienced the pain I felt many times before and to see her back became more and more layered with wounds.

My tears were falling with abandon at this point, and it was everything I could do to keep talking. My voice had become hoarse from trying to yell over the mayhem so America could hear me. By the end, things were coming out of my mouth that I had never said before.

"I love you America I always will I'll always be here for you I'm so, so sorry I love you keep listening to me I love you you hear me I love you I love you I love you," I was hysterical at this point, sobbing so she probably couldn't understand me.

After what felt like hours, I had almost lost my voice completely and my father decided he had had enough. He threw down the whip in disgust and muttered, "I've had enough of you two. Do what you please," and stormed out of the room. America was curled on the ground almost unconscious, and my hands were still tied to the chair. I had to get America out of here as soon as I could, before she lost too much blood, but there was no way for me to move. I needed her help.

"America," I called out.

**America's POV**

The pain was blinding. I had never felt anything like it before. When I heard Maxon's voice, everything seemed a little better, but eventually the pain even drowned that out, too. I must have passed out, because the next thing I registered was the cold tile floor under my cheek and Maxon's voice, pleading.

"Please, America, I need you, don't give up on me I know you can wake up, please just wake up."

I opened my eyes and began to sit up to face him, but a searing pain roared across my back, causing me to let out a yelp. My hand reached around and felt at my back, and when I brought it back to look at it, it was drenched in blood. I felt so weak, and I began to cry.

"Maxon, ple—ease, I need you, I need you."

"Ames listen, I can't help you, I'm stuck, I need you to untie me."

I began to stand up to walk over and help him, but I was overcome with dizziness and fell.

"No, no! Please don't stand America. Crawl over behind me and see if you can untie me. I know you can do it, I know it." He continued saying encouraging words to me as I continued to sob, slowly and painfully crawling across the room to his chair. I had to drag myself through some puddles of my own blood, and I felt nauseous and began to gag.

"I'm so, so sorry, Ames, you can do this I believe in you you're so close, please."

Hearing my family's nickname for me was comforting, and it was now that I looked at his face for the first time. Red and tear-stained, I could see how upset he was. I stopped in my tracks. "I'm sorry Maxon," I whispered. "So, so sorry."

"America, no! Please don't be so selfless, I'm fine, I really, truly am, I just need you to come untie me and we can get out of here."

It seemed to take all my strength, and my hands were shaking uncontrollably. By the time I got the knot loose enough for Maxon to pull free, I was exhausted and the pain had more than doubled. I looked down and realized for the first time that my dress was still around my waist. Humiliation. Another bout of tears wracked my body, which just increased the pain. Had the king really done this to Maxon before? How could he bear it? How could a father even think about doing things this despicable to his son?

My mind was clouded with questions and agony, and the next thing I knew, Maxon was kneeling next to me, kissing my face and my tears and my hair, and scooped me up into his arms.

**This is only part 1! Part 2 is about halfway done, I will try to have it up as soon as possible! Please review so I can make the next part better, and let me know what you think! Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's part two from the last chapter! It continues from right where I last left off. Please review!**

**Maxon's POV**

The second I could pull my hands out of the knot, I jumped to the ground and cradled America. I kissed her face free of tears and began to pick her up. I had to be careful not to let anything touch her back, but I didn't want to carry her to my room in just her bra, to protect her decency. I picked her up like a baby, her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist, one of my hands under her butt and the other supporting the back of her head. I hugged her chest close to mine so she wasn't as exposed. She pressed her face into my neck and began crying.

"Maxon, I can't believe how much trouble I've gotten you in I really didn't mean—"

"Shh, please America," I whispered in her ear as I jogged out the door and into the hallway. I had to get her quiet; it was very late at this point and just about everyone in the castle was sleeping. Plus, it really hurt me to hear her talk this way. How could she think any of this was her fault? "Ames, listen," I continued, whispering soothingly as I ran so she could feel at least a little bit of comfort. "_I _was the one who showed you the books. _I _was the one who didn't check on you and your topic for The Report before you could do any damage. _I _was the one who wasn't strong enough to protect you from my father, my own damn father..."

I looked over and realized she had stopped crying, but her eyes were closed and she was taking short, shallow breaths.

This was bad.

"No, no, no no nonono America, please! Open your eyes stay with me please wake up stay awake please!"

She whimpered softly and made her grasp around me a little tighter. This was a good sign, but I had to move quickly. I practically sprinted down the last hallway to my room, trying as hard as I could not to jostle America too much. The guards standing post outside my door had wide eyes and questioning stares but I gave them an order before they could say anything.

"Please, don't tell a single soul about this. I have the means to take care of her and, let me make myself clear, absolutely NO ONE must know about this."

"Isn't there anything at all we can do to help? Please?" One of the guards asked, his eyes heavy with worry.

"Thank you for your concern Officer..." I eyed his name tag, already rushing in the door. "Leger. Thank you Officer Leger, but no. Please keep quiet," and with that, I slammed the door behind me and ran over to my bed. America's eyes were still closed, but at least her breathing had slowed down. I had to bandage her up quickly.

As gently as I could manage, I placed America facedown on my bed, so as not to irritate her back. She stirred a little and moaned softly. I knelt down next to the bed near her face and smoothed back her hair.

"Shh, everything's going to be ok in a few minutes, I promise." The small moan that escaped her mouth gave me a sliver of hope.

I turned and went into my bathroom, retrieving the metal box full of supplies from my medicine cabinet. When I came back out of the door I stopped in my tracks. I was suddenly overwhelmed by this entire situation. America was all but torn to shreds, lying on my bed, but I loved her. She had basically given up our nation's biggest secret, but still, I loved her. I knew in that moment, I had to make her mine.

But there were others things I had to do first.

I set the metal box down on the bed next to America and opened it and sorted through until I found the cleaning materials I needed. I slowly, hesitantly, unclasped America's bra so I could have full access to her back. I'll admit I had imagined doing this more than a hundred times, but never in a grave situation such as this. I didn't take her bra all the way off, and left it pressed between her chest and the bed.

I leaned up to softly kiss the nape of her neck and said, "America, this is going to hurt, but you must know that I'll always be here for you, and you are the bravest woman I have ever met."

I tried to work as quickly as possible, but I could tell that America was still in pain. I whispered soothing things to her to try and distract her, but it wasn't really working. I apologized profusely, over and over, anything to try and convince her that it would still be worth it to stay here, with me, even after the terrible things that had happened here.

When I was finally almost finished, America's crying had turned to quiet tears, and her eyes were even beginning to drift closed in pure exhaustion. Before she could fall asleep, I went into my closet to grab a t-shirt and pair of my boxers she could wear to bed, placed them next to her, and leaned down to whisper, "America, I'm going to leave for a few moments to let you get changed, and you will be staying in here tonight, with me."

She began to weakly protest, "But that isn't allowed is—"

"Tonight, we can break the rules. I need to make sure you're ok tonight."

I turned to walk out and give America some privacy but caught the faintest hint of a blush on her face. I quietly walked down to her room to assure her tell her maids that no, America would not be coming to her room tonight, and yes, she will be perfectly safe. I wondered if any rumors about what had happened had spread; they all seemed quite concerned.

When I finally got back to my room, America was nowhere to be seen. I panicked, expecting the worse.

"America?" I called out softly. No response. I went over to the bed, my closet, my desk. She was gone. "Ames?" I called a little louder this time. I walked into my bathroom. "America? Are you here?" I was practically shouting, my mind racing with every horrible thing that could be happening to her right now.

I heard footsteps behind me and whirled around to confront the intruder. A rush of air left my lungs. America was walking towards me, head hung with guilt.

I grasped her tightly, burying her head into my chest and my face into her hair. "I thought I lost you," I mumbled quietly.

She giggled and confessed shyly, "I was just looking at the princess suite."

"You have no idea how glad that makes me," I said, then mentally added, _both the fact you are safe, and_ _the fact that you may be living there in a few short weeks_.

With that, we slowly walked over to the bed, and I helped her ease onto her side as painlessly as possible. She turned over her shoulder and asked, "Are you sure I'm really allowed to stay here tonight?"

"My darling, nothing would bring be more comfort right now then knowing you are safe here." As I said this, she quickly shifted her eyes downward and tried to stealthily wipe a tear that had escaped, but I saw it and knelt down next to the bed next her face.

"Everything's going to be ok, I swear," I really wanted to help her get through this, as no one had ever been there for me.

America's face crumpled as she shook her head "no" and slid down on the floor so she was kneeling facing me, and collapsed into my arms, crying. I held her as her shoulders shook and her breaths came ragged and uneven. Slowly, I sat down and lowered her so she was sitting sideways in my lap, her head buried in my shoulder, her arms pressed up against my chest. I hugged her head closer to my body and rocked her a little back and forth to try and calm her down. A few tears of my own escaped as I relived the affairs of this evening.

After a few minutes, America looked up into my eyes, her own red and puffy and whispered, "Has—has he really done—that—to _you_?"

I averted my eyes, not wanting to upset her, but the action alone gave me away.

"But, how—why?" Her voice was trembling.

I sighed. "America, dear, let's not talk about this right now. I promise I will fill you in on everything at a different time, but now we need to get some rest," I glanced at the clock. "It's nearly 2 in the morning."

I picked her up and placed her in my bed again, tucking her under the covers. My shirt was wet with tears and rather dirty, so I took it off and began to head over to the couch to make my bed for the night. Just as I sat down and began to untie my shoes, I heard America call out, "Maxon? Do you think you could stay with me tonight? In here, in the bed, I mean."

A small smile spread over my face. "Anything for you, America."

**There's part two! Thanks again for reading and stay tuned for a part 3! It might take a while, as I'm about to be really busy, but it'll be up here eventually! Thanks to those of you who reviewed, it really makes my day to see those up there! Let me know what you thought about this part!**


	3. Chapter 3

**New Update! Again, from Maxon's POV. I have found it much easier to write in Maxon's voice, so unless I say otherwise, just assume that he's the narrator! Thank you guys SO much for the reviews, they make me so happy :)**

**Without further ado, part 3!**

I woke with a start from my deep sleep with a loud gasp and looked at the clock. 4:36am. I had been dreaming that I was underwater and couldn't come back up for air. I shook off the thought and remembered my surroundings. I looked down at America, nestled tightly in my arms, my chest on her bandaged back, sleeping peacefully. She looked so absolutely beautiful, despite everything that had happened in the last 12 hours. But as I pulled away to adjust my arms under her, there was a slippery sticking noise. I looked down to see that she had been bleeding through the bandage, and onto my chest. I mentally scolded myself for not doing a better job of bandaging America, of taking care of her, and reluctantly woke her so I could change the dressing on her cuts.

"Ames, darling," I whispered, nudging her shoulder softly. "Please, wake up, my love."

She woke quickly, sitting up with her eyes wide and suddenly out of breath. She must have been having a bad dream, too. As she rolled over to face me, she must have twisted her back in a strange way, because she yelped a little and collapsed back onto the bed facedown and began to cry.

I stroked her hair slowly realized that she must be so disoriented right now; it was the middle of the night, she was in pain, she just woke up from a nightmare.

"Shh, darling, I have to change your bandages, I'm sorry for not doing a good enough job before with them—"

"It's ok," America whispered. "Thank you for being so kind to me."

I leaned down and kissed her cheek slowly, feeling her blush under my touch. I then began to slowly lift her—well, my—shirt up over her arms, but left it hanging around her neck so it would be easier for her to put it back on later. However, under her shirt she was wearing nothing, that is except for the bandages that I had covered her with. They wrapped completely around her torso, which was now completely uncovered, I guess she had taken her bra off when I left her alone to change.

"Um, America? I'm going to need to reach around to your front to take off these bandages, so I'm sorry if I accidentally touch, well, you know..."

"Would it be easier if I sat up?"

"I mean, I—I guess so, but if you don't want me to see you—I mean—"

"Maxon, I really wouldn't mind if it'll make this easier for you."

I really didn't want to make America feel uncomfortable, and even though her words sounded convincing, her voice sounded a bit unsure. She slowly sat up with her back to me, and her arms wrapped tightly around her chest. I sat behind her, cross-legged. I took a deep breath and peeled the bandages off of her.

As I reached around her front, my stupid shaky hands grazed hers that were covering her chest.

"I'm sorry I wasn't trying to—I didn't mean to—"

America looked over her shoulder at me with blush. "It's ok, I didn't really mind."

Here I was, sitting with America on my bed, saying she didn't mind that I'd just (accidentally) touched her chest! Not to mention I was practically head over heels for her. But there were more important matters at hand.

I finished taking off America's soiled bandages and replaced them with new ones, making sure this time that they were on tight enough to last for at least a few more hours. By the time I had finished, America's arms had relaxed a bit around her chest and she began to lean back into me, dozing off. Her shirt was still loosely around her neck, she was too tired too take it off. But before she could lean too far back into me, I remembered that I was still bloody from her bandages leaking through onto my chest. I slowly got up and made sure America was leaning back against pillows that were propped up against the headboard of the bed.

"Where are you going?" She mumbled sleepily.

"Just to clean myself up quickly, I'll be right back darling."

I walked into my dark bathroom and wet a washcloth and quickly wiped myself down. I could take a better shower in the morning, but for now, all I wanted to do was be in bed, sleeping next to my America.

She however, had some different ideas.

When I walked out, America had completely woken up and was sitting up on the edge of the bed, legs dangling over the side. Her head was still through her t-shirt, but her arms were not through the arm-holes, but by her side, so the fabric made a lazy "u", just barely covering her chest. She was looking at me with a sultry grin.

"Ames...what are you doing?"  
She looked up at me through her thick eyelashes. "I am so grateful for everything you've done for me tonight, and I wanted to find a way to thank you." When I looked at her with a questioning stare, she whispered, "Just come lay down on the bed with me."

I had no idea what tricks she had up her sleeve—or rather _lack_ of sleeves—but I decided to follow along to see just how far she would take this.

I laid down on my back right where I had been before I woke up and America crawled up over me, straddling my waist. I averted my eyes, feeling that it was inappropriate to be doing this considering everything else that had happened tonight. She took my hands and placed them on her hips, then leaned down to kiss me.

I closed my eyes and suddenly registered what was happening. She was kissing me! An almost topless girl was kissing me! This was practically every man's dream! How could I have been so lucky? But still, something about this felt all wrong. But before I could do anything about it, America pushed her body flush against mine, and our bare chests were pressed together.

And man, did THAT feel good.

_Focus Maxon. This shouldn't be happening, at least, not right now. _

I was uncomfortable being this intimate with her when she had experienced a completely traumatic experience not seven hours ago. We were moving too quickly. I wanted to put a stop to this, but not hurt her feelings.

Without breaking our kiss, I slowly sat up, my legs outstretched, with America sitting on my lap, her legs wrapped around my waist, her arms wrapped around my shoulders with the tips of her fingers playing with the hair on my neck. My arms were still resting on her hips, but at this point I slowly dragged them up her sides, avoiding her fragile back. As my hands brushed past the sides of her chest, she arched herself into me, wanting me to feel her, but I restrained and put my hands on her shoulders, breaking away from the kiss but leaving my mouth just millimeters from hers, our noses touching.

"Let's slow this down a little," I breathed out. We were both out of breath from the pure desire coursing through our veins.

America looked dejected and lowered her arms from my shoulders, breaking eye contact with me.

"Do you not want to be with me?" she whispered, barely audible. She looked absolutely humiliated.

"Of _course_ I want to be with you," I assured her, pulling the hem of her shirt down. She slid her arms through the sleeves, our foreheads still resting on each other's. "Just one step at a time, that's all."

"But why? Don't all men want to see...well, what I just tried to do?"

"Maybe other men do," I gave her a delicate kiss and her arms came back up to my shoulders, my hands settling on her hips. "But I don't want to be like other men for you. I'm not sure how your last boyfriend treated you, but I want to be different. I obviously haven't had many romantic experiences before, and I want to take my time, savor the feelings. Can you help me do that?"

Our faces were still just centimeters apart, and the heat radiating off of her was driving me crazy. I really didn't want her to feel bad about herself, it was _me_ who wasn't ready for that level of intensity. But that didn't mean I didn't want her here, on my lap, in my bed, kissing me.

"Of course, Maxon." And she leaned in once more to lock her lips with mine. It was extraordinary how well our bodies seemed to mold together, almost like they were made for each other, like two halves finally reconnecting.

I laid back down with her on top of me, and concentrated all of my efforts into making her feel like the most beautiful girl in the world, if only through a kiss. Even though I had taken a step back in our intimacy tonight, I didn't want to take a step back in our relationship. As of this moment, it was the only thing keeping me sane. I resolved that in the morning, once we had both gotten enough sleep, I would take America to the infirmary and once and for all come clean to my mother—and the staff—about the way my father mistreats me. Seeing the torture from a different angle made me realize just how unacceptable it was, and I knew that with the help from America, I could be brave enough to stand up to my father and set things right.

After a while, our lips began to slow, and America rested her head on my chest, her eyes closed, my fingers lightly tracing patterns up and down her arms. We were both too tired to move, and before we both drifted off, I said something I didn't think I'd be able to say for a long time.

"I love you, America Singer."

The last thing I saw before falling asleep was a small smile on America's lips.

**Yay part 3! Ok I know that Maxon has technically said this to America in part 1 of this story when he was yelling out to her, but that was when he was super overwhelmed and just trying to comfort her; this time is much more intimate and serious.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading, and review if you have any criticism or thoughts! And as always, tell me if there's a specific scene you want to see and I'll write it!**


	4. Chapter 4

**THANK YOU SO MUCH TO THOSE WHO REVIEWED! Here's the next chapter! Sorry it took so long, but I hope you all like it!**

I awoke some 3 hours later at 8:30 in the morning to a knock on my bedroom door. America was still laying on top of me, her head on my chest, my arms wrapped tightly low around her waist. Reluctant to leave my position, I slowly slid out from under her and repositioned her, to which she let out a small groan.

"Shh," I whispered. "Go back to sleep."

I arranged the sheets and pillows around her so she could not be seen from the doorway if the person knocking was an unwanted visitor. The knock came again and my heart quickened.

"Just a moment," I called out.

I jogged over to my closet and pulled my robe over my bare chest and slowly opened my door. I breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Eric!" I sighed to my butler. "Good morning. You don't know how good it is to see your face."

I was being quite talkative and upbeat for the morning, and Eric looked at me with confusion. He had known me since I was about 7, and could probably tell that I was trying to hide something. However, being the respectful and wonderful man that he is, he didn't question me.

"Your highness," He began, "I was told to inform you that the king requests your presence as soon as possible at breakfast.

"Of course! Right away Eric. Thanks for letting me know."

And with that Eric turned and walked down the hall, but not without giving a questioning look towards my bed. I turned around and looked back at my bed. Oops. America's brilliant red hair was fanned over the pillow, sticking out boldly against my white sheets and pillows. I wasn't worried, though, Eric would never spread that kind of thing to the other staff.

_The other staff. _I had to tell them and my mother about what had happened last night to America—and what has been happening to me—and just who was behind it.

Setting the thought aside for now, I went over to wake America up. I flopped down on the bed next to her and sighed loudly.

"Who was that?" America mumbled sleepily.

"You know," I teased, "We really ought to do something about that hair of yours. My butler is under the impression that we were up to very naughty things last night."  
"Well, we weren't exactly innocent..."

"No, my darling," I kissed her slowly and tenderly, "we were not."

I continued kissing America for a minute before coming to my senses. "How are you feeling?" I asked, barely managing to pull away from America's lips.

She smiled, her eyes closed. "Wonderful."

"No, America," I sat us up carefully, brushing her hair back from her face. "How is your back feeling? Are you in any pain?"

She twisted gingerly and grimaced a little. "Its not _that_ bad, I mean—"

"America, please don't try to be strong. May I remind you that I am practically an expert on these wounds, and it's probably feeling a little worse than 'not that bad.'"

America cast her eyes downward. "Ok, it hurts. A lot. Happy?"

"No, of course not!" I assured her, taking her hands in mine and leaning my head down to make eye contact with her. "I don't want you to be in any pain, Ames, I'd rather take all the pain for myself. I just really need to know how you're doing so I can help you to feel better as soon as possible."

"Ok...then you know that cream stuff that you put on last night? That made it all numb? Do you think you could use some more of that? It really—"

I put my finger to her lips. "Say no more."

I got up and went into my bathroom to find what America was describing. I looked in the mirror and discovered that my hair was a royal mess. How had she been taking me seriously? I walked back out to find America sitting up on the bed, her hair in a similar state.

"Why didn't you tell me my hair looked like this?" She questioned me.

"I was about to ask you the same thing!"  
"Well, I like yours like that."

"And I like yours like that, too."

We looked into each other's eyes for a moment before I cleared my throat and walked over to the bed.

"So, I think there are a few things we need to talk about while I do this," I said tentatively.

America seemed skeptical, but laid facedown on the bed and lifted her shirt up so I could apply the cream to her back.

"Ok," she said slowly. "Go for it."

I took a deep breath. "I've never said any of this out loud, so bear with me if my thoughts get a little jumbled."

"Always."

I smiled. "What happened to you last night—and what has been happening to me—needs to become public."

"But Max—"

"Wait, let me finish. If the people of our country knew what their king's true personality was, they might be mad enough to make a difference." I heard footsteps in the hall outside, so I paused for a moment. When they went away, I continued. "We should start by telling the staff. You know how gossip spreads here. By the end of the week, everyone will know about it, and maybe on the report, we could make an announcement or even—"

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down. You can't make an announcement on live national television that the king beats his son and abuses the selected! The country would go into complete mayhem!"

There was a gasp from the doorway.

"—Mom?"

There she was, my mother, standing in the doorway with tears staining her face, looking about two feet tall. I rushed over to her and grabbed her hands.

"Mom, what did you hear? We're ok I promise, please stop crying,"

She wiped at the corner of her eyes with her fingertips and took a deep breath. She let out a sigh.

"I heard most of that, to be honest and I—"

An enormous sob escaped her.  
"Please," I whispered. "Come sit. Talk to me."

America had pulled her shirt back down and was sitting upright on the end of the bed. Looking as pale as a ghost. Oh god, she must be petrified right now.

"Um, maybe I should leave?" America said timidly. "Oh! Your Majesty," she remembered to add.

I looked to my mother. "No, no," She pleaded. "I think the three of us have a lot to talk about."

**Ahh! Sorry if this was a little boring, but please review! I've actually been super busy lately, and any suggestions or ideas you leave really give me motivation to continue. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**THANK YOU ALL FOR BEING PATIENT! I'm so sorry I haven't updated sooner, but it's been a crazy busy year. I know that's a lame excuse, so to make up for it, here's chapter 5! I think you'll like my note at the end ;)**

PREVIOUSLY: I looked to my mother. "No, no," She pleaded. "I think the three of us have a lot to talk about."

My mother took a deep, shaky breath as America and I shared a look. I tried to tell her that everything was going to be ok with my eyes alone, but it didn't look like she was buying it. I subtly tugged my ear instead, and gave her a small smile. Some of the color visibly returned to her cheeks, which made me calm down as well.

"Why don't you try to tell me everything," my mother said hesitantly, "from the beginning?"

She was sitting on a bench by my bed, America was sitting at the foot of my bed, and I was standing in front of them. I ran my hand through my hair once and began pacing a little. I didn't think I could look my mother in the eye when I told her this. I'd never even really said it out loud to anyone.

"It started when I was thirteen...I had forgotten to turn in the tax report I had been working on to him. When I finally _did _give it to him, it was like he had been waiting for this moment for years. He told all of his guards," my voice cracked a little and I cleared my throat. "He told all of his guards to clear out of his office and not tell a soul about anything they were about to hear."

"You mean your father's guards know about this?" my mother whispered. "Maxon, honey, how could you ever forgive—"

I didn't let her finish. It would be too painful to have to keep starting and stopping the story, so I just kept pushing forward. "So he turned towards his desk and opened a drawer and pulled out a long whip and told me to take off my shirt and I was really scared and didn't know what to do so I listened and he hit me and I wanted to tell you Mom, I really did, but I was scared he would do it again but he did it again anyway and I couldn't tell you, if you knew you would hate him and he'd blame me so I never told you, please don't get mad I just couldn't—"

I had been talking so fast and pacing so much that when I registered someone's hand on my shoulder, my back was pressed up against the wall and I was extremely out of breath. To my surprise, however, the hand that was on my shoulder, comforting me, was America's. She reached up to my cheek and brushed away some tears that I didn't even know had begun to fall.

My heart rate began to slow at the feel of her touch alone, and when she whispered, "It's ok, Max. We're here, you're safe now. I promise."

A small sob escaped me as I put my arms around her and buried my head in the crook of her shoulder and her neck, and she held my head to her as her other arm hugged me around my waist. I'd never cried like this before—in front of people, anyway—but I was so grateful that out of everyone in the world, my mom and America were the ones to be here with me.

Once I'd calmed down a little, I looked up to see my mother, who was staring off very distantly. I pulled away from America and went to sit beside her.

She put her arm around me and let out a long sigh. "Maxon, I don't think there's any way you can forgive me for neglecting you in such a way, and I can't even begin to try now. This is a lot of information for me to hear at once and I think I need time to process all of this. I promise you," she paused to look me in the eyes. "I absolutely promise you that I will do everything in my power to get something done about this, I just need to figure out what. Maxon, honey, you are the bravest person I have ever met, and while all of this is horrific, I couldn't be more proud to be your mother. I hope you always know that I'll be here for you." She pulled me in for a hug and I whispered, "I love you mom."

"I love you too, honey, always" she responded. "I'm going to go and try to think through some of this."

She got up to leave, and with her hand on the doorknob, she added, "America, dear, would you walk me back to my room?"

America glanced at me with a confused look, which I returned to her. I gave her a slight nod, encouraging her to go walk with my mom. Before she walked out though, I grabbed her hand and pulled her in to hug me.

"Thank you for staying," I whispered in her ear. "I know you had a long night, so take it easy today, ok? And don't be scared of my mom; if she wants to talk to you, it can't be anything but good."

She nodded subtly, obviously scared, and squeezed my hand, then went out to walk with my mother.

When the two of them left, I took some time to go to the bathroom and wash my face and even brush my hair a little. My stomach growled, I realized we still hadn't eaten. I called my butler over from his room and asked him to bring up a plate of food for me, making an appearance at breakfast be damned. I went into my closet and put on some clothes for the day, then sat at my desk and tried to calm my mind.

There was a knock at my door, so I stood up and walked over to open it. Before I could even get it all the way open, America practically jumped on me, kissing me and wrapping her arms and legs around me. I took a few surprised steps backward, but reveled in her embrace and her touch. As I turned in a slow circle, I pulled away minutely and said, "What's bringing this about?"

America smiled softly and whispered, "I'm just really glad I got selected."

**Woohoo thanks for reading! Curious to find out what Amberly said to America? This might be a lofty goal, but if I can get 15 more reviews on this story (and no spamming), I'll post a short *bonus* chapter with their conversation!**


	6. Note From Me

**Just a note from me...**

Hello to everyone reading...so I haven't been on here in quite a while and while I'm touched and flattered by your reviews, I have to tell you that I will no longer be continuing to add to this story. Thank you SO SO much to everyone who has read this and reviewed and *begged* for more (haha, never expected that one), it really means a lot to me. Sorry if I'm disappointing anyone, I just want to put some readers out of their misery :) Please feel free to continue to reread and share this, I just won't be adding any new content!


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